Trixie's Fantasy:
Less cathouse, more cottage. That's how Trixie envisions the
perfect house of ill repute in the fifties. A weathered cabin
off a dirt road tucked into the Pacific Northwest forest with
a cleared patch of front lawn allowing in some sunshine smeared
with clouds to welcome you into the arms of heaven, backed up
by ferns. Wearing a red dress, Ms. Trixie is happy to "accommodate"
you and your pressing needs.

She might pour you a glass of lemonade and have you sit with her
on the porch to chat awhile while she susses out your particular
tastes. Spankin's? Stockings? Spankings AND stockings? Looking
for someone a might younger? How about I phone up Vern down at
the tavern and see if he can spare his half-wit daughter, Sissy?
She can't read nor write, but she's a REAL quick study when it
comes to figuring out what makes men horny! "TRUST ME,"
the woman in the red dress tells you. "Sissy'll be worth
your bread."

Trixie
also warns you that if Sissy or anyone else in house comes to
any harm, red-dress lady's going to get her rifle and shoot the
shit out of you. The sheriff's in her pocket so you WON'T be missed
and your body will never be recovered. Then the accommodating
woman distracts you from your fear by flashing you her VERY furry
beaver. All better now? Come in and she'll pour you a proper drink
. . .